The Mirror Man

Once upon a time…a year, a month or a day? I could not recall with certainty. It surely happened in time, the right time in an unknown place, there was a mirror man.

Yes, a man. For one, it used to be men. Now there was, at least it was known, only one left in the world. He was the last of his kind.

His guild did not peddle mirrors, much less craft them. What they possessed was a gift to discern mirrors.

They knew, more than anyone else, what and how mirrors had to be.

Not alone in their size, shape or place as we would commonly think it to be. They examined mirrors for their quality to reflect the world and everything in it: people young and old, earthly wonders, human events both joyful and sorrowful, and much more.

What was it that a mirror man saw what no other mortal could see? The normal eye easily captures shapes, colors and movement upon the silver glass surface.

The mirror man saw these too. Even a child would amusingly enjoy a mirror reflecting his distorted face and body in a carnival’s mirror maze. The mirror man knew that, and so well that he detested such deforming traits.

So what did he see that others could not?

Once the town mayor had commissioned a mirror man to sort the best mirror for his walk-in wardrobe. After being presented with over a hundred different framed mirrors, the mirror man was left with only three which he said were not easy to choose from.

He was asked why so.

He replied, “They had already been previously sorted out by other mirror men.”

“Should that not make your task therefore easier?” someone asked.

For once the mirror man confided something of their trade. Whether a secret or not, it was indeed reason to make selection more difficult.

“If it has not been known before, that mirrors are chosen not for their own quality. But above all, for those who will gaze upon them.”

His words hinted that his talent did not only discern mirrors, but also the men who will indulge in them.

“But isn’t all these childish nonsense? A mirror is a mirror, period! A tool, above all, to see and fix oneself,” another remarked.

“Indeed, and I agree with your point, young man. But a mirror, if it were to truly aid man, ought not to only reflect his body but also his soul,” he replied while evidently still having difficulty scrutinizing the three mirrors.

The mayor’s aides were only interested in getting their job done and over with. They were not even struck by the man’s last words. Was it another secret of their guild revealed?

“Whatever your reasons are,” one official impatiently wiped the sweat from his brow, “we don’t really care. If you please, which of the three would it be?”

“If the matter were choosing something that could simply reflect someone’s visage, then I leave that to any of you, my dear sires. But considering this is for the mayor, a man who will wield authority, make important decisions, entrust others with countless duties and….”

“Go on, then! Do as you please, but know that we haven’t got all day!” another official rudely interrupted.

“As you wish. Perhaps, it would be hastier if there were less, ah, shall we say interruptions?” The mirror man immediately returned to his task. A cloud of silence filled the air.

As he delicately peered into each mirror, one wondered what does he perceive? Is it the power of another sense unseen? Or is it just all a show? Why then, if his trade were so important, was he the only one left?

“This one!” He finally pointed to a mirror.

“I knew it would be that one,” an official lamely guessed out loud.

“Damn! I’ve lost another bet,” the mailman swore.

“As for my fees,” the mirror man said, “I wish only to take the two remaining ones.”

“As you desire,” the finance officer replied quite pleased at not spending more for something so ridiculous. And what will he do with the sorted-out mirrors?

* * *
“I had sensed that they were already sorted out by my kin. The one I chose for the mayor was before sorted out for a child. Thus, there would be no harm allowing the mayor to use it,” the man explained.
“Harm? Can a mirror even harm a man?” a woman asked.

“That is what it seems. But a mirror previously corrupted by vanity, lust, greed and all the other evils projected by the mirror of man’s heart are all absorbed by these reflecting objects.”

“Absorbed?”

“Yes, it will in turn slowly corrupt the truth about the person peering into the mirror into something that he is not.”

“Surely this is not the mirror’s fault?” a little lad said.

“Rightly said, young boy, but a stained mirror can only reflect more corruption.”

“But what of the two mirrors you have?” I asked.

“I shall dispose of them properly according to the traditions of my ancestors.”

“Are they so corrupted that they cannot be used by anyone else?” the mailman lamented.

“Yes,” the man started wrapping the mirrors hastily.

“How and by whom, may I ask?”

“By the very mirror men who sorted them out!” was his surprising reply.

“How?”

“We are, after all, also men. It is one of our guild’s strictest injunctions that in the art of discerning mirrors, one is never allowed to do one thing. If one transgresses this rule he will be banished forever from our kind and traditions.”

“What would that rule be?”

“That a mirror man should never contemplate his own reflection.”

The man finished packing the mirrors. He shook my hand and said goodbye. I watched his figure slowly disappeared down our town’s dirt road.